Chapter Text
The hum in the air was subtle but unmistakable; even as they nibbled their beans on toast, even as they tried to talk about everyday matters (the torrential rain, the surprising yet completely unsurprising news of James and Lily’s engagement, the emergency stash of butter and powdered milk from Euphemia). Narcissa could feel it, a low vibration in the walls, a pulse in the floorboards beneath her feet. As the shadows grew longer, Remus moved with exaggerated calmness around the room, protective magic glinting faintly in the lamplight as he muttered incantations.
He turned to her, eyes unreadable in the flickering light. “Cissa… the wards are strong, but…” His hand hovered over the single wand they had between them, a tremor in his jaw that betrayed the tension he usually hid. “…if I show even the slightest danger… take the wand. Use it.”
Narcissa smiled, stepping closer. “I know. You said already. But you don’t scare me, Remus.”
“I don’t want to hurt you. Not ever.”
“Then you won’t,” she said, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth. Her fingers brushed over the locket at her throat, warm and reassuring. “And besides… you don’t get bad boy points just for being a werewolf, Remus Lupin. I’m afraid you’re by far the nicest man in existence.”
His golden gaze softened, and he allowed himself a brief smile. “Even if I do make you keep chocolate bars handy for moral support?”
She laughed, reaching into the cupboard to pull one free. “Exactly. Chocolate first, full moon second. That’s the order of operations.”
Remus looked at the little clock on the wall regretfully. “I’m afraid not tonight; I’ve left it all too late.” He glanced at her again. “Stay inside,” he told her. “Lock the doors, and don’t step past the wards. Promise me.”
“I will,” she said, but the words felt thin.
“I’ll see you in the morning, then,” he said with false joviality. “Enjoy having the bed to yourself; maybe break your code of conduct and wear socks if your feet get cold? And… sleep well, I guess.”
He gave her one last glance before retreating behind the protective circle. The moment he stepped across, she felt the ordinary rhythm of the cabin roar back into place: the smell of pine, the quiet crackle of the fire, even the stack of books on the table – all was exactly as it should be. And yet, as she sat, trying to read, her mind wouldn’t hold on to a single sentence.
Even normality felt wrong, without him there.
***
She must have read the same line at least eighteen times (‘The year that Buttercup was born, the most beautiful woman in the world was a French scullery maid named Annette’) when Narcissa heard a sound that made her stomach twist: low, ragged, tormented howls on the wind.
The book lay forgotten as she pressed herself against the windowpane, peering into the darkness beyond, desperate to see him. He had warned her that he had used the last of his wolfsbane already; that he would tear at himself as he struggled against the wolf inside him. He had explained that some of the scars he kept hidden were of his own doing. He had promised that it was just for one night, and he would be fine, and she should wait for him.
But Narcissa remembered how his friends had walked with him at night, guiding him through the changes. How he said it had been easier when he had company. She was on her feet before she could think better of it.
Wand in hand, she pushed through the door and stepped lightly through the wards. The magic pulsed against her skin like a warning, but she ignored it, following the sound to the woodshed and its heavy, bolted door.
***
The enormous creature shook uncontrollably as Narcissa entered, but its wild eyes recognised her immediately. The wolf didn’t snarl, didn’t lash out; instead, it fell forward onto its belly, claws scraping the ground, body heaving with exhaustion and pain.
Gently, she reached out and placed her hand on its head. The warmth of her palm anchored the wolf; the trembling slowed. Its body relaxed, the tension of the transformation seeping into the floor as it crawled closer toward her, resting its head in her lap like a wounded dog, trusting her completely.
“You’re safe,” she murmured. “I’m here.”
Remus’s eyes met hers, calm at last. A soft, shuddering sigh escaped him as she kissed his shaggy head of grey fur, marveling at the beauty of the beast and the trust in his gaze. Even in the shadow of the full moon, with danger coiled in every muscle, she felt utterly safe. And she would never let him forget it.
***
The morning sun streamed through the curtains, and for the first time in hours, everything felt calm. Remus stretched, the tension of the previous night drained from his body, and waved the half-eaten chocolate bar at her in admonishment.
“You could’ve –”
“– and I would have used the wand, just like you said,” she interrupted. “But I’m fine, aren’t I?”
He exhaled, half-laughing, half-grumbling. “You’re even madder than Sirius, and that’s saying something.”
Narcissa smirked, leaning back against the pillows; even with shadows around her eyes, he thought she looked radiant. “Say that again and I’ll cut off your chocolate supply forever.”
Remus laughed softly. Then, carefully brushing her vanilla hair to one side, he leaned in to press a kiss to her temple. “Thank you for being there last night,” he murmured.
“I should be thanking you,” she replied. “For… trusting me.”
They shared the chocolate bar in comfortable silence, then drew the curtains back across the window and crawled under the covers once more. With nothing to do and nowhere to be, the world felt safe again. And so, curled together like kittens, they finally drifted off to sleep.